


I'd Crush Buildings for You, Valentine

by musicmillennia



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Box of chocolates, Dragons, Fluff, Len Apologizes, M/M, Magic, Pyromancer Mick, Talking Animals, rogues family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9725966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: "Uh, Mick? There are dragons lying on top of buildings.""...ah, hell."(in which Len ropes his Rogues into helping him apologize. Takes place after LoT Season 1, where Mick was actually dropped off in 2016 after the pirates)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno man it's Valentine's Day and in case you didn't know I love dragons and Gay

They say you should never run from dragons. When they're on the hunt, it's best to either fight an impossible fight or accept your fate. When they've labeled you as clan, you don't walk away either―dragons are notorious for their solitary nature; when you've earned such devotion, you don't waste it.

Well they can suck it. Len's the one who drifted from Mick in the first place. Seems like time travel and heroes are lethal to criminal partnerships. Mick got kicked out, like they were in elementary school. Rip dropped him off in 2016. He tried not to see the relief on the team's faces or Len's averted eyes.

Mick and Len do this sometimes. One of 'em fucks up, the other leaves. They make up sooner or later, usually with some form of weaponry and stolen valuables. Lisa likes to call it couples' therapy. Mick likes to call it a pain in his ass.

Doesn't mean Len doesn't have to work for it. He fucked up big.

Mick visits the Rogues to pack some stuff. They whine at him, trying to wrap him in their tails and shelter him in their wings. He gives in and grills them a nice dinner, but he ain't gonna be there when Len's on shore leave or whatever. They understand when he tells them.

Lisa gives him a gold necklace from her hoard. Even though Mick has magic, she'd prefer to have physical evidence of their clan on him. "For safekeeping," she says, and Mick doesn't know which she means, him or the necklace. Probably both.

So here he sits, months later, in Hub City. Specifically, Kendra Saunders' apartment. Mick didn't feel like spending money on a hotel room and he wasn't gonna use a safehouse―again, Len has to work for it―and he doesn't really have _friends_. But Kendra, who had left the team after Savage, who is now dead, seemed willing to take him in, especially when she heard the story. Apparently she thinks of Mick as a friend.

She also looked appropriately angry when she found out that Len hadn't bothered to find Mick when the team stopped by in May. Makes a mean coffee, that woman. Soothes the soul, mark Mick's words.

She's got another chick in her nest, but this Carter's still a dick. They don't talk while Mick watches TV and he folds laundry.

Oh, and there's a rat on Mick's head. Not one from Hartley's hoard―much to Hartley's displeasure―but from some unknown time. Apparently they'd taken a liking to him and his magic and scurried onto the Waverider. Mick'd guess gulag, 'cause there were a bunch of talkative critters there. He just calls 'em Rat. They don't mind.

Carter knows what's good for him and doesn't comment on that either.

Kendra's off at work. Got herself a job at Hub City's Hawk Preservation. It helps that literally every single bird who flies in her vicinity snuggles up to her instantly. She gets to take care of injured birds, release 'em back into the wild, take kids on tours―way better than being a barista.

Rat always freaks out a little when she comes home, though. She always smells like a predator to them, especially after a day of work. Doesn't matter, though. Mick's got plenty of pockets.

So, watching TV. It's Saturday; Mick's got nowhere to be. He might go out later, though February's cold as fuck. Nobody's reported him yet, making that a feasible plan. Plus, Valentine's Day―sweets  _everywhere_.

He could get so much chocolate. Hub City chocolate ain't so bad.

"Uh, Mick?" Rat squeaks.

Mick looks up. He sees a bare hint of a tiny nose. "Yeah?"

"There are dragons lying on the skyscrapers."

Carter starts from his folding-induced daze. Mick puts Rat in his pocket and storms to the windows.

The TV spouts "Breaking News!" at the same time Mick sighs and says, "Ah, hell."

Because Rat's right. Dragons, familiar ones, have sprawled themselves over every tall building in the city like overgrown cats, tails encircling them if they're not wide enough. Mick recognizes the chaotic diamond patterns of Axel's scales, the ethereal orange and purple patches of Shawna, the ever-changing colors of Roy, the visible weather report of Mark―rolling clouds and all―the pulsing ripples of Hartley's green scales with their pitch streaks, the reflective diamond-esque of Scudder, the unmistakable molten gold of Lisa.

And draped over the tallest sky scraper like a fucking damsel is the spiked-ice asshole of the hour.

Carter blinks. "Isn't that―"

"A target?" Mick snarls, "Yeah it is."

"Uh."

Mick storms out of the apartment and to the stairs.

He bursts onto the roof. The door's only partly melted by the time it slams shut behind him, so he thinks he's got a good hold on his temper.

And he can be patient.

Snart sees him. He knows he does. And Snart knows that Mick knows he does. This oughta be good.

The Rogues hum happily in greeting, having not seen him for a while either. Can't say he's not glad to see 'em too, but  _Snart_.

Lisa blows on her freshly painted talons. She has a large paintbrush in her paw and a big bucket of red next to her. She's settled to wait like Mick.

Eventually, Snart curls into the air and glides his way over. He lands on the roof, but it's too small to hold him properly. A big wad of dragon ends up barely perching on it while his tail piles around him in an attempt to surround Mick.

"Rogues won't stop complaining," he says. The Rogues collectively roll their eyes behind him. "I'm sure Kendra and Carter can enjoy their love nest alone."

"Kickin' me out again, huh?" Mick says. Keeps his voice even, 'cause that's what gets Snart on edge.

Snart huffs a bit of frost. Then he draws himself up as much as he can with his precarious seating and says, "I  _am_ sorry, Mick."

Even Rat shrieks at that one. They haven't been around long, but they know that Len doesn't throw out somethin' like that. Just ain't his thing. Ain't any of the Rogues' thing. Hell, it ain't a dragon thing.

Mick is immediately suspicious.

Len unzips the bag strapped to his underbelly. He uses his talons like tweezers to pull out a...is that―

Mick catches the heart-shaped box.

He stares.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he says.

Len briskly rezips his back. "Figured I couldn't get a better gun than what I got you." He preens a little at that. Dragons never get over their gifts. "And you got a thing for chocolate."

"Everybody's got a thing for chocolate," Mick says, "'Cept for Scudder 'cause he's a bitch."

Scudder snaps his jaws.

Len rumbles. He leans down. "I did somethin' yesterday," he says casually.

Mick clenches his fists on the box, not impressed by the big dragon head looming before him. "Good for you."

"I told Rip and the team I'm gonna stay home."

The fire teasing around Mick's feet vanishes.

"What?" Mick murmurs.

Len not-so-subtly curls the end of his tail in front of him. Mick can't help looking at it, and his breath leaves him.

Descendants of ancient breeds, like Len, are said to have untold power. Charmspeak, dominion over their race, what have you. And a very lucky few get multiple lives. They show up like a kitsune's tails, only for Len, they're sturdy feathers unfurling from his ice at the tip.

Half of them are missing.

Without thinking, Mick drops the box and vaults over part of the tail to get to them.

"Only took one shot," Len says. "There was a thing called the Oculus. Savage was involved with the Time Masters―yeah," he adds at Mick's snort, "should've seen that comin'. Anyway, the Oculus was like a book: told everybody's destinies, every timeline. It was all a fixed set of events."

Mick squeezes his eyes shut. He knows Len too well. "You destroyed it."

"And died doin' it. A lot."

Mick blows out a harsh breath.

"After I got spat back out, I started to think about what I left. My sister, my clan, my city." Len bumps Mick's shoulder. "You."

 _Fuck_.

"I was always gonna come back for you, Mick. I knew you just needed some time. But I didn't think you'd wanna see me when we touched down after Savage." He folds his wings flat against his body. A sign of sincerity. "I stayed on a while after that. Saw lotsa stuff, stole lots more. But the team's not my clan and they're not my partner."

Mick crosses his arms. "You sure about that?"

Len noses his head. "Yes."

"So you staged a sit-in with our Rogues to get me to come back?"

Len perks up at 'our.' "Yes."

Mick narrows his eyes. "You fucked up big, Snart."

Talons scratch loudly on the roof. "I'll make it up to you. I'm staying, Mick." A pause. "I'm sorry."

Two in one talk. Damn.

Rat pats his chest from inside his pocket. Yeah, yeah, he knows.

Mick picks up the heart-shaped box. "You just want me to cook your chicken."

Len purrs. He gingerly takes Mick in his paw and deposits him on his back. "Well I ain't gonna let Mardon near one."

"Hey!" Mark thunders, "My chicken is the  _best_!"

Roy pats him with his wing. "No, Mark. Mick's is."

Mark growls, but he doesn't object. Mick supposes that storm-breath doesn't account for much when you're trying to grill somethin'.

"Doesn't mean my chicken's bad," Mark mutters.

"Of course," Hartley drawls. "By the way, Mick―that rat still with you?"

Len takes to the air. Rat puts his paws up like he's on a rollercoaster and squeals. Hartley scowls. He'll never get over Mick choosing Rat over one of his hoard, will he?

"By the way," Mick shouts over the wind, "you can start makin' it up to me by cleanin' the dishes with your human hands."

Len glowers at him, but Mick's definitely not hearing a no.

He is gonna milk this one for  _years_.

**Author's Note:**

> Btw it's totally cool if you don't like chocolate


End file.
